


Parting of Ways

by Majnoona



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majnoona/pseuds/Majnoona
Summary: Fen wants a divorce. Josh bakes some things. Margo and Eliot have to work some things out. Charlton and Eliot have to work some things out.Set after Season 5 episode 6.
Relationships: Margo Hanson/Eliot Waugh, Margo Hanson/Josh Hoberman
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. The Unproposal

“I want a divorce!” The sudden, and very forceful proclamation came from just behind Elliot's head, making him jump.

“Shit! Fen! What the fuck?” He twisted to the side as ruby red liquid sloshed out of the pewter mug. “You almost spilled my very important cocktail all over these moderately important documents,” He gestured with his free hand at the the pile of parchments strew across the rough split log table that served as command center for High King Margo in Exile. A few drops of precious drink dribbled down the edge of his heavily embroidered cuff and onto the dirt floor. Eliot mournfully watched them disappear into a dark spot.

“We’re kinda dealing with some things here, Fen. ” Margo barely looked up from the hand drawn map she was studying. “Can you cool your heels?”

“No, I cannot -- and was that a foot related jest? Because I told both of you it’s not funny. No more twinkle toes. We discussed this.” 

Eliot and Margo closed their eyes and sighed in perfect unison then dropped their scrolls back onto the heap. Margo pulled back a spare log from under the table and waved, half-graciously inviting Fen to sit. “Have a seat; let’s hear it. Divoce court is, apparently,” sigh, “in session.”

Fen took the offered log, sat down ramrod straight, placed her hands together, took a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”

“We got that twinkle-- I mean Fen,” Margo caught herself, but not without a dramatic eye roll. “I think we all know that you and El have not had a Disney-worthy happily ever after, but what’s all the fuss all of a sudden? I mean, it hasn’t stopped you from boning my sort of boyfriend.” Eliot shot her a warning glance and she shrugged. “Just to throw out an example.”

“Yeah, I thought we talked about this,” Eliot put a hand on Fen's shoulder, giving her a little squeeze. Margo’s expression softened a little at the the very real look of concern on his face. “I told you that you’re under no obligation to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere. And I am under an obligation -- to Fillory and to High King Margo.”

“But not to me.” 

“No, not to you.” Fen tuned to face him, clearly steeling herself. “Before I thought maybe we should stay together because we were a family. But Fray chose to stay in the past with, uh, her, um...”

“... with her _bear_ friend” added Margo, helpfully. Eliot glared. “Which, we approve of, and support, of course!” She finished quickly.

“Yes, and you and I --” Fen floundered for a moment. “Well, technically we haven’t had sex in 304 years and we don’t even pretend to be together and I think we just need to end it. OK?”

“Yeah. I guess we don’t have to stay together for the kids anymore.” Eliot looked like he couldn’t decide if he was sad or relieved so decided to take a deep drink instead. 

_Charlton was suddenly elbowing him none too gently in the ribs, once again threatening his drink._

_“Hey, what’s the big deal?”_

_“Don’t be cruel.” Chartelon admonished. “We both know you care. About her and your daughter.”_

_“She wasn’t really my daughter. You’ve probably seen the memories, you know that.”_

_“What does “really” mean? She looked up to you. You gave her guidance and approval. Isn’t that what all parents do for their children?”_

_“Ha. Not all parents.”_

_“Well, then whatever you were, for however long it lasted, you were a better father than your own.”_

_“That’s a pretty low bar, but thanks.”_

"Wait a second,” Margo smacked the table, shocking Eliot out of his thoughts. “Did you say 304 years? Because I know you two were still occasionally going at it at least until the key quest kicked off.” Fen gave her a questioning look. “What? We’re close. I know when he’s banging someone. Anyway, that was what, six months ago?" Margo sat back, blinking. "Fuck me, a lot of shit has gone down in six months."

"Six months for you maybe," Josh said, pushing aside the tent door and sharing a meaningful look with Fen before continuing. "But it was over three years from when you were exiled until we got your-- I mean Eliot's-- letter."

"You two were on your own for three whole years?" Eliot asked.

"Well, not alone; we made plenty of good friends," Josh gestured beyond the tent's entrance as he helped himself to the makeshift bar balanced on a stump. "Most of these folks who came with us."

"But, yes." said Fen, "We were trying to manage things on our own for a long time."

Josh put a protective hand over Fen's as he sat down beside her. "We did ok for a while there. Even had some good parties. Always hoping you guys would be back any day, of course."

"Jesus, I didn't know," Eliot slumped back against his chair.

"You never asked," said Josh not bothering to disguise his disapproval with both of them.

"Well, we sure suck" said Margo.

"Look, there's been a lot going on," Eliot protested weakly.

"There's always a lot going on,” said Margo. “Doesn't mean we get a free pass to be self absorbed dicks."

“Thanks,” said Josh. “I appreciate the validation.” Margo searched his face for a hint of sarcasm but found none, which only made her feel worse.

“So, is divorce even a thing in Fillory?” Margo said, clearly changing the subject “I know the magical rules all went to hell when we literally killed god and also Eliot got thrown out, and then dethroned, and then possessed and then… well, at that point I kinda gave up keeping track.”

“Divorce is totally “a thing” in Fillory.” explained Fen, “Not that unusual for regular people, really, and now that you’re, well, not High King any more...”

“Oh my god, I’m ‘regular people’ now? Regular people are the worst.” Eliot took another deep drink and got up to refill his goblet.

“Look,” Fen followed him, “we just have to go to a Priestess of Ember and make our petition for divorce." She took Eliot's hand and touched his wedding ring. "And then these can finally come off."

“I suppose it’s some crazy talking animal?" Eliot pulled his hand away. "Let me guess, a platypus or capybara?”

“What? No. A capybara would never be a priestess of Ember.”

“Are we playing guess the talking animal?” asked Josh, “Cause I’m going with gecko. I have yet to meet a talking gecko.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fen looked taken aback, “It’s nothing like that. I don’t know why you always assume everything in Fillory is going to be so bizarre.”

“Oh, OK.” Eliot looked somewhat shagrin. “Um, sorry? So what-- I mean-- who is this priestess?” 

“She’s a statue.”

“A statue is going to give us a divorce?”

“A talking statue.”

“Ah…”

“All right, fine! She’s a talking statue of an octopus riding a lioness into battle.”

“Of course she is.” Eliot suspiciously eyed the liquor level in the carafe. “Nothing bizarre there,” he muttered. “Fillorian business as usual."

“And what’s the deal with this ‘petition’?” asked Margo, joining them around the bar stump. “‘Cause you may have noticed that everything in this whackass place comes with some sort of magical fine print.” Eliot filled her goblet and then topped off his own.

“Oh, nothing much” said Fen dismissively. “We just need to prove, beyond all reasonable doubt, that we have met our true soulmates. That’s all.”

“Soul-- ” began Margo.

“--Mate?” finished Eliot with a sigh. “Definitely going to need that refill.”

***

“So, how is this supposed to play out, Fen?” asked Margo as she poked idly at the fire pit that served as heater, stove, and gathering place for the camp. The sun had set a few moments ago, leaving a soft glow behind the tall trees. The cool night air was already making her nostalgic for her fur robes back at Whitespire, or a half decent Ikea comforter. Why did she never have time to pack properly for these things?

“Me and Eliot, we go in front of the priestess and declare ourselves to our soulmates and they must respond in kind. As far as I know, that’s all there is to it. There’s no obligation to marry that person or anything.”

Margo looked skeptical. “That seems suspiciously straightforward for a Fillorian ceremony. No catch? No fight to the death or mind bending riddles?”

“No catch that I know of,” said Fen. “Like I said, it really wasn’t a big deal for most people. We wouldn’t even have to bother with the priestess except that we were married in a royal ceremony.”

“OK. So, who’s going to soulmate up? I think it’s no secret that El and I go waaay back. If it’s really no strings attached, I think we have a damn good claim on the soulmate status.” She shot a look over her shoulder to where Eliot was staring out into the forest nursing his drink. “What do you think El?”

_"So you’re back from rummaging around in my mind?” Eliot was asking Charlton . “You see every single memory. That's not horrifying at all."_

_"Of course,” Charlton sat down so he was back-to-back with Eliot. “There's some things I avoid. Your father, for example, wasn't terribly kind to you. I like the memories after you left home much better. And there's one place I can't get into for some reason. It looks lovely, but, sort of blurred? And it jumps around. Very strange. Did you stuffer a head injury perhaps?"_

_“Something like that,” said Eliot. Charlton , studied his face but, unusually, didn’t press for an explanation._

“--ELIOT.”

“Huh? What?”

“You? Me? Soulmates?”

He straightened up and, with some obvious effort, focused on Margo. “Absolutely, Bambi. You’re always the one for me.” He paused, “uh, sorry Fen. I didn’t mean....”

“No it’s fine. I was counting on you two.”

Eliot let out a sigh as Fen’s practical generosity once again managed to be both inspiring and totally depressing.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but can you think of someone for you?” Margo cut right to the point as usual. She was interrupted by Josh appearing out of the forest shadows with a large basket in one hand. 

“Crostinis anyone?” He flipped the cover off the basket to reveal a stack of bread slices slathered in cheese in herbs. “I struck up a nice friendship with the baker in the nearby village and he’s letting me use his oven once he leaves for the day. Beautiful woodfire brick thing big enough to roast an ox. And he’s got this goat cheese that’s just to die for.” He stopped short by the edge of the firelight and, as always, quickly read the room. “Or maybe I should make us some drinks?”

“Yes, drinks” agreed Eliot, who had not stopped staring out into the woods despite the encroaching darkness.

“No more drinks,” said Margo. “You’ve been drinking since noon. And we have shit to work out.”

“Fine,” Eliot agreed mournfully. “But after we work out the shit…”

“Then you can have more drinks,” Margo put her arms around him and gently pulled the goblet away from his lips. “Soulmate,” she added with a light kiss to the cheek.

“It’s Josh,” Fen spit out, suddenly. “Josh is going to be my soul mate.”

“The what you say?” Margo pivoted away from Eliot, who almost stumbled at her sudden absence. 

Josh put his crostini basket gently down on the table and made a placating motion. “Now, now, it’s not for real, of course. You and I have still not had a chance to talk about things but I can tell you that Fen and I have worked this out; it’s just for the divorce ceremony. Really, it’s no big deal -- like commiting green card fraud, right?”

“Since when is green card fraud is no big deal?”

“Like in that movie? With Gérard Depardieu? A classic! Am I right?”


	2. Soul Train

_"There's a beach house,” he was saying “where you and Margo stayed your first summer. I spend a lot of time there looking at the ocean, listening to the music from your parties. I didn't have anything like that in my memories.” He paused thoughtfully, “I really didn't have time to make that many memories."_

_Eliot fell in step besides him. "I've never really asked you about yourself, have I?"_

_Charlton shrugged. “There’s not that much to tell. I had a sheltered life, then I had to leave my home, and then there was nothing but hiding for endless eternity until you came along.”_

_“Why did you leave home?”_

“El.” Snap.

"El. Eliot!" Margo snapped her fingers again right in front of his nose. "What are you doing? Now is not the time for a stroll in the woods."

"Uh, I was just thinking." He shared a look with Charlton before his not-imaginary friend turned and walked off. "Have fun at the beach…" Eliot whispered after him.

"What at the what now?" demanded Margo. "I don't ever remember you doing this much "thinking" El. Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

“Is everyone else ready to go?”

“Are you changing the subject?” She stared him down until he looked away and she sighed, resigned to let him dodge the topic yet again. “Yes, we’re all ready except that Josh still isn’t back from his baking buddy’s”

"I'm here! I'm here!" Josh shouted from the edge of the clearing, bent double under the weight of a lumpy burlap sack.

"Great, about time." Margo gave Eliot one last searching look. "Let's get this motherfucking divorce train on the motherfucking road."

Josh heaved at his bag and started after her towards the horses.

"What's in the bag, Josh?"

"Stone-meal baguettes. Made with actual stone."

"Why the fuck are you bringing stone baguettes? Are you high?"

"What? Yes but no, it's for the Priestess. The _statues_ priestess? Did you know that statistically, judges are always more lenient on cases after lunch?"

"No. I did not know that."

"We're going to butter her up! Oh, shit, what kind of spread is she going to want? I should pick up some mortar."

***

The horses were starting to complain.

Granted, they had been riding hard all day and one of them was hauling 15 pounds of solid stone baked goods, but Margo still found it disconcerting. She pulled back on the reins, gently of course. “About time,” the horse muttered. 

“Let’s take a break,” Margo announced. Everyone immediately started stretching sore joints and cracking cramped spines. 

_Eliot and Charlton were dismounting the grey stallion. Eliot had momentarily worried about the poor horse carrying two grown men when he remembered that one of them was incorporeal._

_“Where are we?” asked Charlton , looking around the forest clearing. The distant sound of a river echoed off a nearby cliff face lined with fallen boulders. A hint of mist in the air made tiny rainbows in the sunshine filtering down between the trees. “This looks familiar -- you’ve been here before?”_

_Eliot glanced around dismissively. “We’re in the middle of a forest. Do you know how many middle of the forests Fillory’s got?”_

_“No, this one is distinctly familiar.” Charlton turned in a full circle and pointed at a distinct stack of boulders. “You’ve seen that before. It looks like a person made of snow.”_

_Eliot studied the ground. “Charlton ,” he said finally, “I’m going to ask you a favour and I want you to think about it very carefully before you reply. You are literally in my head and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He looked up and put his hands on Charlton ’s shoulders, looking him squarely in the eye. “Can you just leave this one thing alone?”_

_“Yes, of course.” Charlton cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to pry.”_

_Eliot laughed at the obvious irony. “I don’t actually mind having you here with me. It’s nice. Just not this, OK?”_

_“OK.”_

_They turned in unison and started back towards the others._

“How long does it take for you to piss on a tree?” Margo was already astride again, turning her horse towards the left fork of the path at the far side of the clearing. Fen, Josh, and the grumbling packhorse followed her lead.

“No, not that way,” Eliot called out as he quickly remounted, catching a glimpse of Charlton already behind him. 

Fen turned to him, “but this is the quickest way to Tumbledown Hollow. We can stop there for supplies and be at the Grotto of Emberness before dusk.”

“Not that way.” he repeated firmly. “We’ll take the right fork and go around.” They were all looking at him now. “It’s an easier trail for the horses.” The horses looked at him skeptically. 

Margo cantered over to him. “What’s going on now? I swear you spend more time doing spooky shit than not these days, El. It’s getting old real fast.” Her voice dropped to a whisper “You’re not getting cold feet about the divorce are you? Trying to delay things or messing with Fen in anyway would be a deeply dick move.”

“No, of course not.” 

“Well, OK, then. What’s the deal?”

Eliot fumbled for words and felt Charleston place a steading hand on his shoulder. “I swear to all the stupid gods that I will explain, soon. Just, right now: Credenza.”

“You’re going to credenza _this_?” Her eyebrow shot up. She thought for a moment. “Seeing as how last time you called it in, you did save the whole fucking world, I guess I will roll with it.” She turned back to the others, “We’re going to long way around, and I don’t want to hear a single whinny about it, right?”

She started off to take her place at the front but looked back over her shoulder. “We are going to have that talk though.”


	3. Checkmates

The sun had long set when the hoof-sore and saddle-weary group approached the dark amphitheater of the priestess of Ember. They dismounted and saw to the horses before approaching the marble dais. As soon as Margo’s foot touched the worn grey stone, torches burst into flame illuminating a crumbling figure, at least a dozen feet tall. 

“APPROACH CHILDREN OF EARTH AND CHILD OF FILLORY” 

They scrambled to obey, half bowing, half trying to see what exactly they were dealing with. Margo’s hands tightened around her favorite axe-- which was both of them. A final torch sputtered then caught, dousing the last of the shadows around the statue. 

It was pretty much as Fen had described: an enormous octopus, riding a lioness tricked out in battle gear. 

“KNEEL AND BE JUDGED-- ha, no, I can’t even…” the status appeared to shake, small bits of stone crumbling around the edges. 

“Are you laughing?” Margot asked, incredulous.

“Your faces! It’s been ages since I’ve had anyone fall for that shtick.”

Awkward silence. 

“But, really,” continued the statue, still laughing, “I’m going to judge you, so step up and give me your best soulmate pitch. You,” she looked at Josh, “you go first. And make it good. I am literally dying of boredom here.”

“So, um, I am Josh and this--” he gestured, “is my soulmate, Fen.” 

“I’m going to need a little more than that to go on,” the statue sounded distinctly bored.

Josh clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “Fen, uh, is a woman. As we can all see.” He took a step closer and put an awkward arm around her. “A lovely woman.” She looked at him expectantly. “Yes! Lovely in many ways that I -- as her soulmate-- deeply appreciate.”

“Such as?” prompted the statue. 

“Such as! Such as her… her… her loyalty to Fillory! Yes!” Fen frowned and the statue’s tentacles visibly drooped.

Josh looked around desperately for inspiration as Margot made frantic “go on” gestures. Eliot gave him a sad smile that wasn’t the least bit encouraging. Josh threw him a pleading look but only got a shrug in response. That son of a….

“And her loyalty to family!” He shouted. “Yes. And… and... the way she can make anyone feel like family. You know what?” his voice was firmer now, “she made me feel like I had a family when I was feeling very alone.” 

Josh turned away from the priestess and started speaking just to Fen.

“Fen is deeply caring and fearless and thoughtful. She’s a surprisingly good sous chef in a pinch and unsurprisingly fantastic at keeping knives insanely sharp.” They were both smiling now. “Do you remember that time I nicked my thumb deboning quail for the Half Radish Star Festival?”

“You were such a baby about it,” Fen picked up the story. “But I made a poultice and kissed it better and then we… uh,” she looked around remembering that they had an audience, “Anyway, Josh is my soulmate because he is so thoughtful-- he cares so much about making sure that everyone around him is having a good time. And his cooking and baking bring so much joy. And he’s amazing with his hands -- in the kitchen, I mean. Little pastries, and such... ” She trailed off, cheeks blazing red. Josh kissed the top of her forehead and Eliot did a little golf clap of approval.

“So, yeah,” said Margo, looking back to the priestess. “How about it?”

"Welllll," the flint eyes flitted back and forth between them, squinting in deep consideration. "Sure, I'll buy it! You two are soulmates. Congrats!"

"Wait, that's it?” Josh asked “No soul searching magic? No questions about face lotions or toothpaste preferences? No trial by fire cobras?"

"Do you want fire cobras? Because I do know a guy."

“No, no. No fire cobras required!” Josh turned back to Fen. “Yay us?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes, yay us.” and grabbed him in a big hug.

“Our turn, Bambi,” Eliot offered his hand to Margo as if they were about to waltz and she accepted graciously. They turned together to face the priestess, brimming with confidence. 

“You want to go first? Or should I?” He asked. “Also, I’m totally telling the story about that weekend rave in Dublin when we...” she swatted playfully at him.

“I can tell you without a doubt,” announced Margo, “that Eliot and I have been soulmates since the moment we--”

“Hold it!” cut in the priestess, all eight arms slicing through the air. “Stop. Stop right now.” The stone lion, which had so far been immobile, pawed at the air and gnashed its teeth, roaring silently. 

“What the hell?” said Margo “are you having some sort of statue medical issue?”

“This ceremony cannot proceed.”

“Are you fucking with us again? What’s your problem?” said Eliot, putting a defensive arm around Margo.

“Soulmates must declare themselves one being to one being. That is how it must be done.”

“OK,” challenged Margo, “one Eliot is declaring he’s the soulmate of one Margo. Should be wham, bam, divorced ma’am.”

“You may be one being but he,” all eight arms jabbed at Eliot, “is not.”

Margo looked confused. “Is this about the Monster possession? Because maybe you didn’t get the notification, but that was so many things ago. You need to, like, check your preferences.” She turned to Eliot for agreement but he was almost as pale as the statue. “Eliot what is it?”

“Oh, shit,” was all he could reply. “I’m so sorry, Bambi.”

She pulled away from him, unaware that one hand had gone to the ax at her side. “Don’t you so sorry me. What is going on Eliot? Spit it out, now.”

“I was going to try and talk to you about it, him, it… there’s just always so much going on.”

“Yeah, so I keep hearing,” Margo’s voice was tough as nails but Eliot could see the tremble of her lip. 

“It’s nothing bad, I promise, just…”

“Just something you couldn’t talk to me about.”

“I don’t even know how to explain.”

“Oh, I can fix this,” said the statue calmly. “Here, I’ll make you one person again, no problem.” The octopus arms started flexing and shifting like eight well-toned classically trained magician fingers.

“No! Wait! Stop!” Cried Eliot but he could already feel a terrible pulling, pulling him apart. He screamed and his scream split into two voices.

“What are you doing? You’re killing him!” Margo ran at the statue, ax above her head, only to be thrown back by a purple glowing field of light. She landed on her back just as Eliot crumpled to the ground. 

“Oh, that hurts,” said an unfamiliar voice. “I haven’t been hurt like that in forever. Also, it’s gotten so bright. What the heck was that anyway?”

Eliot and another figure climbed to their feet in unison, the new person casually reaching out to brush dirt off Eliot’s leggings and then stepping so close his head was practically on Eliot’s shoulder. 

“She looks pretty pissed,” he said in Eliot’s ear, as if no one else could hear them. “I told you that we should explain things to her. And I also told you that--”

Eliot didn’t even turn towards this intrusion into his personal space. “I know what you said. And I told you it wasn’t the right time,” he muttered through grit teeth.

“Why are they looking at you like that?” the stranger asked. “Did I miss something?”

“I don’t know,” Eliot replied slowly looking from Margo to Josh to Fen. “It’s almost as if they can see and hear you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous” said the stranger.

“Who the hell is that, Eliot?” asked Margo. 

“Fuck,” they said in perfect unison.


	4. Soul-full

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crostinis can't fix everything.

“Charlton was possessed by the Monster before me,” Eliot said, rubbing his eyes and already weary of the amount of exposition it was going to take to get Margo, Josh, and Fen up to speed. 

“For  _ such  _ a really long time,” Charlton added.

“And he managed to stick around when the Monster moved into my body.”

“I held on very tight."

“He helped me when I was trapped. He showed me how to get out so I could tell Quentin I was still alive.” Eliot swallowed heavily and gave his head a little shake. That memory was still too raw. “And, I’m the one who shot his other body, so I sort of owe him.”

“I was just in his subconscious,” Charlton explained, “Wandering around in memories. It was all very interesting-- you are there a lot, in all the best parts. But then I finally was able to get out into his conscious mind and we could talk and be real friends. We talk all the time now.”

“This is what you haven’t been explaining?” Margo looked Charlton up and down. “He was in your head? Sharing your body? Another _thing_ in your body?” She covered the distance between them with such a fierce expression that Charlton instinctively stepped behind Eliot, even taking his hand. 

“She’s not going to hurt you,” Eliot said reassuringly. 

“Oh, she’s not, is she?” Margo counterd. “Maybe you should ask yourself, if I don’t know you as well as I thought, then, maybe, how well do you still know me?” She put a hand on an ax. “Because I am more than ready to cut a bitch right now and he sure seems to fit the bill.”

Charlton cowered behind Eliot. “I haven’t had to deal with the threat of actual, physical violence in a very, very long time,” He hid his face in Eliot’s hair. ”This is not OK and I would like to go to the beach.” He turned and took a few, determined steps away from Eliot before pausing. “I’m still here.” 

Eliot looked at him sadly. “You’re not in my head. Things don’t work like that anymore. You’re a real boy now.”

Charlton looked terrified. “But I don’t want to be a real boy.”

“I know.” Eliot moved to put an arm around him. “It takes some getting used to. The first few days I was back from my Happy Place I kept trying to remember a martini into existence.” 

“I was fine where I was.  _ We _ were fine where I was.” He looked desperately at Eliot. “Weren’t we?”

“Yes, of course… shhhh,” Eliot smoothed Charlton’s hair while throwing a withering look at Margo. He jerked his head towards the ax in her hand and she reluctantly put it back in its belt loop. “We’re going to figure this out and, until we do,  _ Margo is going to chill the fuck out _ .” This last part said more to her than him. 

He turned back to Charlton, “You good?” 

Charlton nodded, still pale and keeping an eye on Margo as Eliot continued, “Margo is our  _ good _ and  _ loyal _ friend. You’ve seen plenty of memories, right?”

“Yes,” Charlton pulled himself together, and smoothed his vest. “Like the time she helped you ‘hook up’ with those muscular young men at the Dublin rave. The ones with sparkly small pants and costume wings”

“Exactly like that.”

“I still don’t understand exactly how some of that worked. Especially the part where you and one of the young men and Margo…”

“Shhhh…” Eliot said again, more urgently. “You shouldn’t speak now. You’ve had quite a shock.” He led Charlton towards a low stone bench at the edge of the dias.

“He’s not the only one,” said Fen.

“Can we just all take a moment to dial things down?” Offered Josh. “I have some stone baguettes that might go over well at this point. And there are still some crostinis. They actually travel very well…”

“Fuck the crostinis,” said Margo. “I think we’re done here.”

“But the ceremony?” Fen rushed over to the Priestess. “Can they just finish proclaiming their soulmate-ness? Now that Eliot’s just one person?” She looked to Josh for help, and whispered “I’m still really confused by that part?”

“Me too,” he mouthed back.

“The ceremony may continue,” intoned the statute. "If both are willing to make their proclamations with open, honest hearts."

“Margo, can we, you know, put a pin in this whole Charlton thing?” Eliot gave Charlton another reassuring pat and moved towards her. “Let’s just say our bits and then we can get back to camp, make some drinks, and hash the whole thing out.” He extended a hand, “OK?”

“Not OK,” Margo looked down at the offered hand disdainfully. “How many times have you shut me out and pushed me away and this time you failed to tell me THERE IS A DUDE LIVING IN YOUR BRAIN. One you talk to all the time. One who knows everything about you. Everything, El.”

“No one comes between us, Bambi. You know that. Charlton has just been tagging along. It’s no biggy, really.”

“I’m no biggy?” Charlton was at his side again. “I feel like a biggy. And I do know everything about you. And I am very helpful, with all my advice.” He turned boldly to Margo. “Eliot has some very bad ideas and often needs someone to talk to.”

Eliot may have been the only one close enough to notice the tremble in her lip and the slight sag of her shoulders before all that hard, glossy, armour came back at full strength.

“You hear that--” she stuck a thumb at Charlton. “It’s not that you don’t tell me everything -- I sure as hell don’t tell you everything. I let all sorts of shit slide, like that Credenza crap you pulled back there that meant I had to spend two more hours having my ass rubbed raw on the saddle. But you need help?” The slightest tremble escaped but she squashed it with a sneer. “You need advice? And you don’t come to me?” She shook her head sadly, “what the actual fuck, El?”

She turned and strode to the priestess. “I’m out. Maybe I am Eliot’s soulmate, but maybe I’m not. I am not proclaiming shit today.” 

“Margo,” Josh tried to catch her as she went past them, “what about Fen? Can’t you just say it? It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he was speaking under his breath, half an eye on the priestess who continued to follow the drama with clear interest. 

“Look, Josh. You can Gerard Depardieu whatever you want. Maybe it doesn't matter. But Eliot matters to me and, no bullshit, he’s supposed to be my actual soulmate.” She turned to Fen, “I’m sorry, I really am.” She disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

“Great," Josh ran his hands through his hair and looked from Fen to Eliot, "you don't happen to have an understudy soulmate waiting in the wings, do you?” 

"Well," Charlton stepped forward confidently, "he always has me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out, for better or worse, to want to be longer than I planned!


	5. Soul Searching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shockingly, life has been a bit complicate the last week or so. Here's a tiny chapter just so you know I haven't given up! Will be back with the last two (full length) chapters ASAP.

“Charlton,” Eliot stepped quickly to intercept him on his way towards the Priestess,”I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“But why not? Who could be more of a soulmate than the soul -- if that is what I was-- who has been part of you for months? Who knows more about you? Who do you talk to more? I have never been closer to anyone else.”

Eliot looked to Josh and Fen for help but got only shrugs. 

“No offense,” He put a hand on Charlton’s shoulder, “but you have only interacted with like two people besides me in the last thousand years. And one of them was an immortal monster.”

“Well, perhaps,” Charlton conceded, “but...” He turned towards Eliot and kissed him squarely on the mouth. Eliot hesitated for just a moment but then gave a shrug and returned the kiss deeply. Charltons clearly didn’t know what to do with his hands but Eliot did.

Charlton finally pulled away. “Oh! Um, I’m not sure if that is actually… really, I’m not sure if…” He wiped his mouth and suddenly seemed aware of Eliot’s personal space for the first time, stepping back out of arm's reach.

Eliot smiled kindly. “Like I said, you haven’t had a lot of experience with people. Maybe you shouldn’t jump to too many conclusions.”

Charlton visibly sagged. “I didn’t mean to shit things up with Margo” 

“I shit things up all the time; it’s practically my full time job.” Eliot steered Charlton back toward Josh and Fen with some reassuring pats on the back “I will fix things with Margo. Maybe you can head over to the Tumbledown Inn with Josh and Fen here.” He made desperate beckoning gestures with his free hand.

“Hey there, uh, Charlton!” Josh hurried forward. ”Tell me, how do you feel about crostinis?” Charlton threw a backwards glance at Eliot who gave an encouraging thumbs up.

Fen hung back, arms crossed, eyes like daggers.

Elliot put his hands on her shoulders. “I promise you, I will fix this.”


	6. Memory Lane

Eliot pushed through the branches to where the horses were grazing alongside the path. All the horses and bags, including Josh’s stone baked goods, were there but no sign of Margo.

“Where’s the High King?” 

Margo’s chestnut stallion spoke through a mouthful of long grass, “she headed off down the path.” He gestured with his muzzle down the other fork. 

“Why didn’t she take you?”

The horse flicked his tail in the equine equivalent of a shrug. “Said something about how she “can’t even right now”.”

Fen’s dappled mare gave a snort. “Is that really a sentence? I don’t understand these Children of Earth sometimes.”

Margo’s horse gave a shake of his mane. “I know, right? And they are surprised we can talk. I know hedgehogs with better grammar.”

Eilot bit back a snarky comeback about showing some respect for their High King but decided to let it slide. “Break time is over, fella,” he gave his own horse a pat before getting one foot in the sturup and swung onto his grey stallion. Thank Ember his horse was generally the strong silent type, he thought as he gently urged them down the trail.

They travelled at a good clip, both lost in their own thought (though Eliot was pretty sure his horse wasn’t trying to untangle a web of emotional landmines caused by esoteric Filiorian marriage laws, until-recently-incorporeal friends/would-be-soulmates, and quasi-platonic life partners).

The stallion’s ears perked up moments before Eliot also caught the distant intermittent sounds of a very pissed off Margo ranting through the dense trees the trail wound through.

“.... cock! … Christ’s…! ...hole! … twat!… Lin-Manuel Motherfucking Miranda on a pogostick!

“Hey they,” Eliot said calmly as they pulled up alongside Margo limping down the trail. She was sweaty and dusty, one Filiorian sandal in hand, its broken strap dangling uselessly.

“Oh, why hello and fuck right off why don’t you?” She didn’t even look up but just kept limping along on one shoe. 

“I thought maybe we should talk. You know, about some things.” He continued casually, slowing his horse to match her stumbling pace. “Spring fashion, the quality of this year's grape harvest, the unusually heavy rain in Loria. Charlton...”

“Not interested.” She held up one hand in the universal symbol meaning “talk to the hand, because the ears ain't listening.”

Eliot guided his horse ahead of her and then turned to block her path. Margo immediately stepped off the path into the branches and pushed her way around behind them. Eliot turned his horse to block her again but didn’t move. 

“I don’t think the lady wants to talk,” commented his horse, unbudging. 

“Are you talk blocking me? Seriously?” Eliot dismounted in annoyance and headed after Margo on foot. Around the next bend the path widened into a small road and a creek bubbled along its edge. Margo was speaking with an old man sitting on a log at the edge of the creek, fishing pole at his side. 

“So, how much further is it to Tumbledown whateverthefuck?” she was asking.

“Not far at all,” the man turned and gestured down the path, “just keep following the Way until it crosses the Coldwater twice more, then turn right at the fork in the road.”

Margo and Eliot exchanged looks. 

“The what crosses the what now?” asked Margo. 

“The road, it’s called The Way and that little creek is the Coldwater.” The man shrugged, “it’s not particularly cold or anything, if that’s what you are wondering”

“You don’t happen to know where that name comes from?” Margo put some effort into keeping her voice nonchalant.

“Most likely the big rock right across there. Says “Way" and "Coldwater”. Letters as big as your head. 

Eliot's long legs crossed the path in three strides as Margo scooped up her skirts to dash after him. Eliot reached the rock, mostly covered by moss and bramble, and started pulling away bits of dirt and plant matter to reveal faint letters.

He stood back, wiping the sweat from his face. He let out a slow, deep breath and cleared his throat twice before finally saying "It doesn't say Way it was Waugh."

"What the hell is a Waugh?" Asked the old man, peering at the newly cleared lettering. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Did you know this was here?” asked Margo quietly, putting a hand on Eliot's shoulder. The old man gave them a final puzzled look and headed back towards his fishing. He’d always heard that the Children of Earth were an odd bunch...

“No,” Eliot shook his head and wiped at a bead of sweat -- or was that a tear? “Back in the day, the road to our place was further down, in those trees, where the creek -- I mean for the Coldwater,” he gave a sad laugh, “bends to the right. They must have put this up later. A memorial or something...”

Margo let out her own long, slow sigh. “So this is why you didn't want to come this way? This is where you and Quentin spent all those years together.” She looked around at the thick, green trees, the bright blue sky, the bubbling Coldwater which sounded almost like distant, happy, chatter. It was like a million other places in Fillory-- but there was something about the way the light filtered through the trees, the quality of sound that was both hushed and bursting with life...

“Well are we going to stand here with our dicks in our hands or are we going to go see your place?” she gestured towards the trees.

“There's nothing there.” He shook his head. “Nothing left of the house or the Mosaic. I came out here after Quentin died, looking for anything, any trace. But it's been 300 and who-knows-how-many years. It’s like it never happened.”

“I thought you said you didn’t remember anything,” Margo tried to lighten the accusatory tone in her voice, but lightening her tone had never been her strong suit.

“I don’t -- not really. Even Charlton can’t get into those memories. He's theory is I had a head injury.”

“Oh,” she gave a thoughtful pause, “so Charlton doesn’t know about that part of your life?”

“No, I’ve never wanted to share it with him. It’s more than enough having him poking around in my childhood and watching the Dutch rave afterparty on repeat.”

“You haven’t shared much with me either,” Margo said pointedly, “just like you wouldn’t talk about those other memories you said you didn’t have.” Eliot flinched at the reference to the Monster but Margo didn’t soften (because she doesn’t).

"It’s not because I want to keep it from you, Bambi...” Eliot put his back against the Waugh-Coldwater boulder and slid to the ground. 

“It’s because I just can’t reconcile having to remember so much about terrible things and so little about the wonderful ones.” He took a ragged breath, “I remember every detail of Q’s face as the Monster tormented him and murdered people right in front of him--us. But I only have faint flickers of the 50 years we spent together.” He ran his hands through his hair, curls going every which way with heat and dust. “We had a family and I don’t even remember their names.”

Margo sat down next to him and took his hands in hers. He looked at her, looking at him, as always, with total acceptance, and gripped her hands tightly.

“What I do remember -- just barely in flashes and feelings-- is that I had a full, good life, Margo. And I was a good man-- a father and a husband. Every morning I woke up knowing exactly what I was supposed to do and that it was the right thing to do. I will never have that ever again. And maybe I will never even get close to being that good man; not without Q.” He gulped back a sob.

“I don’t even know how to think about these things let alone tell someone else. Because putting it all into words makes it that much more real. And I don’t know if I can handle it. Actually, I know I can’t.” Margo pursed her lips in disapproval before he continued -- “I can’t handle it without you. I did learn that lesson the hard way and I haven’t forgotten.”

“So let me help already,” she gave him a playful shake, “talk to me. Let’s work this shit out so we can get to the divorce party already.” 

He gave a sad smile. “I’m not sure I know how to start.”

“Well, let's try something. Close your eyes, try just remembering some feelings -- smells, sounds, anything, and tell me about it. You’re here -- it was practically your backyard, maybe it will spark something in the dumb broken brain.”

He leaned his head back against the stone, growing warm in the sun. “The creek -- we didn’t call it anything but “the creek” -- the sound is so familiar. I guess some things don’t change much even in hundreds of years.” He opened one eye, “are you sure this vision quest shit is going to work sober? Do you think there’s a Filorian version of peyote?” 

Margo put a hand over his eyes and pushed him firmly back against the rock. “Focus.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took a deep breath, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. “I think I remember laying by the creek in the sun, not far from here, on a day like this. I don’t know...” he trailed off, blinking into the sun.

“Go on. Describe anything that comes to mind. Just keep talking to me, E.”

“OK,” he closed his eyes again and tried to call up the feeling. “I’m laying on something soft, a blanket? It’s big and so familiar-- oh, it’s the quilt. It had a pattern, these colors squares like the Mosaic” He gestured with his hands, tracing the shapes, eyes still closed tightly. ”The colors were so bright, tacky really, but then it faded and by the time Teddy left for--” He jumped up so quickly Margot had to catch herself from landing in the dirt. 

“Ted!” he gasped. “I remember!” then more softly, “I remember his name.” He turned, wonderstruck, and offered a hand to Margo. “Q named him Theodore, after his father. But we all called him Teddy.” He frowned, “But that’s it… it’s fading again.”

Margo dusted herself off and took his hand again. “But you got there, you got something. Maybe you just need some time-- and some help.” They started to walk back towards Eliot’s horse. “Have you also considered that maybe getting the Charlton-dectomy helped too?”

“You’re not a fan, are you?”

“I don’t want to tell you how to run your brain, E, but he’s kinda a loser. You should have higher standards for your mind melds.”

“I appreciate your concern Bambi, but Charlton’s OK. He’s has a weird life -- he went through a lot and he’s just starting to figure things out. If you could do me a solid and not tear him to pieces, I would appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, he is newly formed and strangely literal -- I get it.”

“So we’re OK -- soulmate?” He asked hopefully.

“We’re OK -- if I get to ride the horse the rest of the way.” She slid past him, lips brushing his cheek as she took the reins and mounted the horse. “Soulmate,” she agreed.


	7. Meanwhile, At The Tumbledown Whateverthefuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen and Charlton have a drink and are interrupted.

“What is this called again?” Charlton eyed the bubbling mug suspiciously. They had arrived at the Tumbledown Hollow Inn almost an hour ago and still had no sign of Margo or Eliot. Josh had immediately ditched them to take a look at the kitchen set up and had fallen into a deep conversation with a local cheesemaker. 

“Eliot and Margo call it ‘shit bubbly’” Fen topped off her own mug, “-- but don’t let the name scare you, it’s pretty nice.” Fen took an exemplary drink and wiggled her nose. “It kind of tickles.”

Charlton took a cautious sip and sneezed immediately.

“You’ll get used to it.” Fen took a deeper drink and sighed. “Eliot was constantly complaining about the wine, back in our time but, I guess, they kept at it for 300 years and now… well, he drinks plenty of it but he’s still complaining.”

“He can be rather particular about things, can’t he?” Charlton took a bigger drink and gave a little shiver as the unfamiliar feeling of alcohol started to loosen the unfamiliar feeling of having tense shoulders. 

“Oh, can he ever,” Fen rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“You are very funny,” Charlton confided. “I know you are just as Filioarian as I am, but you have managed to adapt many of their Earth phrases and manners.” He hiccuped into one hand. “Even after spending so much time in Elliot's mind, I am not so good at the Earth things.”

Fen refilled her mug and leaned forward conspiratorily, “Enough about  _ Eliot _ , Charlton, tell me about yourself.” 

“Well,” he considered his answer for a moment, “I am over a thousand years old, but for most of that time was possessed by an insatiable murderous monster locked in an impenetrable castle on the underside of Fillory.” He refilled his own glass and shrugged, “so nothing special.”

“A thousand years old?” Fen smacked the table, jostling the overfull mugs. “So you were around when King Adaphelya slew the manticore?!”

“You know of King Adaphelya? My father was at his court.”

“Of course I know King Adaphelya! He wielded the Fourteen Knives of Vasgluss! That was one of my favorite bedtime stories.”

Charlton sat back. “That.. well, that’s not really an appropriate story for children, is it?”

“Sure it is! Knives so sharp they go right through every bone in the ribcage  **and** the spine. Magical hilts that mold to the owner’s hand. What kid wouldn’t enjoy that?”

“You have had a strange life, too, haven’t you?”

Fen’s constant smile faltered for a moment. “I grew up knowing that my purpose was to marry the next High King.” She shrugged, “Whoever he was. No matter what I thought.”

“And what did you think? Of marrying Eliot?”

“At first, I thought maybe it would be good. He was handsome and well spoken and kind.” She paused for another swig from her mug, “Even when he told me that he would have prefered a husband to a wife, I still thought we could work things out. Especially when I got pregnant.” 

Charlton put his hand over hers and gave an encouraging smile. “You know I have been all over his mind and his memories. If it helps, he did want it to work. Coming to Fillory, becoming High King, and marrying you… it most likely saved his life.”

Fen nodded, “I know, he did try, for a while. But then, when Quentin died and he was hurt… after that I just think he got all wrapped up in things and, well, he’s been a real dick lately.”

“Yes,” Charlton sighed sympathetically followed immediately by a hiccuped, “he has been a real dick to you lately.”

“What about you? You were stuck with him, all the time! I hope he has been nice to you at least.”

“Sometimes he can be.. Brusque.”

“But you want to be his soulmate?”

“Oh, yes.I know all about him -- all sorts of wonderful and, well, not wonderful things. And he needs me, ” Charlton sat up even straighter, “so I should be his soulmate.”

“But does he know all about you?”

“Well, no.” Charlton admitted, but then waved it away. “But there isn't much to know about me. I don’t, well, I don’t  _ do _ very much. I haven’t had a body in a very long time you see. I’m sure Eliot would be more interested in me if it wasn’t always the end of the world -- he’s very occupied. And if it’s not a quest or a battle, then he wants to drink or sleep or…”

Fen cut him off. “The people who really care make time for you. They ask you how you are, they want to learn more about you.” She took Charlton’s hand gently. “I know Eliot is very attractive and it feels really good to be needed, but don’t confuse that with love.”

“I don’t want to be alone again.” Charlton took another drink and nodded sadly over the bubbles. “I am beginning to see the appeal of all the alcohol.”

“Being alone isn’t all that bad, you know. I spent my whole life thinking about what other people need from me. And now I’m realizing that I need to think about what I need. And maybe not get so caught up in people who are never going to be able to to give it to me.” 

“But I thought you and Josh…?”

“Oh, we did.” Fen looked over her shoulder at Josh, who was at the entrance to the kitchen with two men in aprons, gesturing wildly over a plate of mixed cheeses and thinly sliced meats. “But, only a few times.” She looked back again. “Definitely less than 10 or 12 times.”

“But you don’t love him? He’s not truly your soul mate?”

“I do love him, but as a friend.”

Charlton blushed. “I didn’t have a very adventurous life but I don’t recall  _ friends _ doing what you and Josh did, or,” he tilted his head, remembering, “for that matter the things that Margo and Eliot do and they are also  _ friends. _ ”

“Oh! On Earth they have another term,” Fen made air quotes, “ ‘friends with benefits’ and the benefits part mean the sex.”

“Ah,” Charlton nodded, “see you are so much more," he made a grabby motion in the air, " 'worldly'.”

Fen started to reply when the door to the inn flung open with the sound of splintering wood. A waitress dropped a full tray of mugs and ran back into the kitchen. 

“What the hell?” Josh’s voice came from the back room. "Where are you going? What about canapes?" The sound of hurried footsteps and a distant door slamming. 

Josh appeared in the kitchen door looking around, "Hey, I don't know what's going on but everyone just ran out the back door like the place is on fire... oh."

Fen and Charlton turned in their seats to see three huge shaggy figures lumber in on all fours, followed by a third, smaller but equally fur covered form. The largest of the bears stood on his hind legs, brandishing four feet of tree branch roughly in the form of a club. “Nobody move! This is a stick-up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize there was too much talking and we need some more action before wrapping things up... Hope it's not dragging on too long but it seems to want a few more chapters!

**Author's Note:**

> My first posting here so sorry if I'm not formatting or tagging things quite right. Please comment away!


End file.
